0820

August 20, 2022

 In Bed at 10:30, up at 6:30, 3 or 4 pss., 1 and 1/2 glass of red.

    On pit stop #2, I put my foot down on the floor only to feel Lily sleeping right next to my bed, not down at the foot of the bed,  but up next to me.  I'm quite sure that the older she gets, the more time she spends near me, accompanying me every time I repair to the bathroom and waiting patiently for me near the bathroom door.  She has even come down into the basement while I'm painting to lie down near me.  She is still very much Geri's dog, attached, bonded, always was, and always will be, but it pleases me to know I'm important to her too.

    

    I found myself thinking of Jimmy again as I warmed up my first cup of coffee.  In 2 weeks, Jordan arrives to shepherd him to Alexandria on Labor Day and I won't see him again.

    Yesterday's Facebook post from Mike: 

"Happy Birthday to one of the most wonderful people that has ever graced this Earth, Kitty Reck!! I miss you, Mom!! I know she is no longer suffering and is at peace, but I would love to have one more conversation with her. Her heart was one of the biggest I have ever seen. She gave so much to people she didn't even know. She did so much charity work in her lifetime, and I witnessed it more than once, the times when the organization she worked with couldn't help someone she reached in to her pockets and helped. She didn't do it for recognition or accolades. She did it because she had a love for everyone. No biases, no judgment, just love. She was an inspiration and drives me to be the human I am today. In her honor today, do one selfless act of love and kindness. Or do 20. Or just keep doing them. She will love that!! Happy Birthday, Mom!!!"

    My comment:

"Thank you, Mike, for your beautifully expressed and oh, so true, tribute to your Mom. You are a gifted writer and, more importantly, both you and your sister have inherited so much of your mother's profound kindness and compassion. In an age of increasing tribalism and division, it's comforting to me to remember her so often referring to "our fellow man," as if all were her brothers and sisters. I vividly remember visiting your house in Glendale some years ago during the holiday season and watching and listening to your Mom on the phone with generous donors to her Adopt a Family work, and, more importantly, with the (usually) mothers who needed clothing, school supplies, toys, etc., for Christmas. She left nothing to chance, getting the names and ages of each child, what size shoe or dress or pants or shirt they wore, what games they enjoyed, and passing all the personal information onto the adopting family so each child's presents would have the child's name on it and be personalized, nothing generic. And of course there were the years and years of work at the St. Vincent de Paul Society getting food and cash assistance to her "fellow man" who happened to be in need of some help. I can hardly think of her without my tear glands acting up. She made the world - and our worlds - a better place. She taught all of us the best meaning of the words "human" and "humane."❤❤❤"

And, a little later:

"Mike, I had no sooner finished commenting on your beautiful reflection on your mother's goodness, that I got to thinking my comment was a bit misleading, concentrating on your Mom's "charitable" work over so many years. Her goodness and compassion and integrity were at work in her every single day of her life, with her family of course but also with those with whom and for whom she worked. She would sometimes kind of disparage herself as "just the cleaning lady" but all of the elderly people for whom she worked quickly became her friends and more. They came to depend on her and when some increasingly lost cognitive ability to Alzheimer's or some other dementia, their children out-of-state came to rely on your Mom -"just the cleaning lady" - as their always reliable connection to their parents. And I needn't tell you how she took in and cared for Aunt Mary, your aunt Gerri, dear, dear Mary and Danny, and our Dad, all in the last years of their lives. I just want the 'record to be complete' that her goodness and love and compassion weren't reflected only in her 'charity work,' but rather every single day of her life and in the most intimate, caring, and sometimes demanding ways, at home, at work, everywhere."

    By 2 o'clock, heavy rain started falling.  Much thunder.  Expected to continue off and on throughout the day.

    I watched Ingmar Bergman's Summer with Monika, filmed in black and white in 1953 and starring Bergman's then paramour Harriet Anderson.  When it was originally released in the U.S., it was as a sexploitation film because of some brief nudity.  It's a bleak film, like so much of Bergman's work.  His father was a Lutheran minister and I find myself wondering how much, if any, of his father's worldview is reflected in Bergman's films.  And how much was affected by the Second World War and Sweden's traditional, self-serving but Nazi-favoring neutrality.  The most telling line in the script seemed to be Monika's: "Harry, why do some people have all the luck and others are miserable?" and the repeated: "I don't want to go back."  Monica is the protagonist of the film: young, healthy, strong, beautiful but not glamorous, gum-chewing, cigarette smoking, greedy, frivolous, self-directed, selfish, amoral, and almost feral. 

    Jimmy is here for dinner and visiting.  Confusion, confusion, confusion, all exacerbated by hearing loss.